The Cost of Tomorrow
by jacob1106
Summary: Death isn't merely a theme in my life. It's a theme of my District's life. Barring cattle, it's the only thing that unites us and binds us to one another. It has less to do with the circle of life and more to do with the cycle of oppression. It's a defining feature of the culture I was steeped in from birth. The tale of Declan Peletier from District Ten.
1. Reaping

**Hello! Welcome to my first completely original Hunger Games fic. This is the journey of Declan Peletier, I hope you enjoy what I am creating here and look forward to feedback and where this tale will take us.**

* * *

Death isn't merely a theme in my life. It's a theme of my District's life. Barring cattle, it's the only thing that unites us and binds us to one another. It has less to do with the circle of life and more to do with the cycle of oppression. It's a defining feature of the culture I was steeped in from birth.

* * *

I never wanted anything that I was forced into. Pacifist by nature, survivalist by choice, killer by circumstance.

* * *

It's a chilly morning. Not atypical by any means, but still unwanted. I pull my threadbare jacket close against my chest and take a few seconds to breathe warmth into my palms. The sun hasn't quite broke the tree line but dawn is coming, and I have to finish my line. Once a little blood returns to my fingers I go back to the snare and dexterously use my billhook to cut the hen free of the snare grabbing her by the head. Still thrashing, she's a fresh one, must have gotten caught in the last hour. Either that or I managed to catch an honest to God wild chicken. Not likely.

"Declan, what knot is that?" Zia asks me with a hushed whisper. My younger sister, a tiny wisp of a girl, shivers to my side. She's barely 13 and so eager to learn and provide for the family. Only a few weeks ago my dad told me that she was allowed to start joining me on my trips. He knows the risks that are involved, and he doesn't care.

It was one thing when I came out here alone and was only risking my own hide. I learned how to handle myself out here. Which farmers and ranchers had the weakest fences, who would be awake when, how to barter with peacekeepers when I inevitably got caught. My skills weren't passed down from an omniscient mentor. They were hammered out in the forge of trial and error, and I have suffered for them.

Zia, however, won't have to.

"This is called a running bowline." I sheathe my billhook, a sickle shaped knife no longer than my forearm with a sharp keen inner edge and a hooked end. Typically used for reaching and cutting branches, I've 'reimagined' it to help me with my snares. Holding the chicken between my knees I point at the rope and expertly untie, straighten the rope, and then retie the knot. "You know this one. Something starts running through and then with luck their foot or neck gets caught and they keep running." I put two fingers in the hole as an example. "Once they're caught and keep moving the knot closes around them." I close the loop around my fingers. "Then they're ours."

"Right. I feel like you've taught me this one before." I gently chuckle at her expense. Despite being eager to learn, she doesn't actually do much learning. Can't fault her for trying.

"At least a dozen times by now. But, that's the reason you follow me and not the other way around." I muss her hair and she gives me a wide toothed smile. "Love you Zia."

"You too Declan." I grab the chicken by the head and yank quickly. Zia looks away as the distinctive _pop_ signifies the end of the chicken's life.

The rest of the line takes us another half hour or so and when we finally get back home we have a pair chicken, three foxes, and one largemouth bass from my new river snares. Not exactly a feast but it'll suffice. I can trade the fox pelts for bread or rope. The chicken down can be made into a pillow and traded, hopefully for some new clothes for Zia. Being the only girl in the family she can really be hard to provide for. All my old clothes go to Frankie and Paul, 8 and 7 respectively. But Zia has to have something new every time she grows.

Lord knows we don't have any of mom's clothes.

* * *

As soon as I get through the door Frankie tackles Zia and Paul perks up asking about breakfast and food. I set my haul down and run at Paul picking him up in a bear hug.

"Would I ever let you go without breakfast rascal?" He squirms in my grasp but I clutch onto him all the tighter.

"Never." He giggles into my neck. I set him down and scamper over to Frankie.

"Didn't think you could get away did you?" Frankie starts running away, but me being a decade older I catch him in a matter of heartbeats. Frankie cackles and falls onto the packed ground floor. I pluck him from the dirt and toss him into the air. He screams gleefully and as always I catch him.

"What did you get today." My dad, Derek, asks in his typical no nonsense tone. The smile dies on my face and I set Frankie down. He, Zia, and Paul all run into the other room of our house, the sleeping room as we've come to call it. They know how this conversation goes.

Home isn't much, merely two rooms. One big enough for three beds and some ground space for the sheet I pretend is a feather bed. The other, our living space. A table, a few stools I'm managed to barter for from various bartenders around District Ten, a washing basin, and our bare bones kitchen.

Resigned, I grab my loot and pull up a stool to haggle with dad. "Not my best." I lay everything out on the table, praying for good fortunes.

"We'll give them the bass and two foxes. That sounds more than fair to me." I bite the inside of my cheek angrily. He always does this. I would call myself a pacifist by anyone standards but when it comes to those three in the other room I'm as much a mama bear as anyone.

"What part of that is fair." I say with an unusual anger on my lips. "That's half of my haul. We have mouths to feed."

"You're right we do have mouths to feed, a whole district of them. You think I'm just throwing this food away?" He questions me sternly. We've had this exact argument maybe a million times. Doesn't stop me from rebuffing him.

"I'm trying to feed the ones that live in this house. They're my priority. They're what matters." He spits on the ground.

"Bullshit. The rebellion is what matters. I love those kids too, they're quite literally my children, as are you. But, the freedom fighters are the ones making a difference. You're just getting one family by. I'm getting this whole district through." I stand angrily.

"Forget your rebellion! Hasn't that cost us enough already?"

"Cost us? Have you already forgotten which one of us is missing a hand?" He hold his right arm up to my face. Coarse burlap bandages cover his stump.

"That should have been the first warning that you were messing with powers beyond your control. But you had to keep pushing the line and we all lost something way more important than your stupid right hand." My dad stands up abruptly and gives me a hearty shove to the ground. Within a second my ass is skidding across the dirt.

"Don't you dare talk about that in my presence. You know the sacrifices I have made over the years, don't you dare chalk that up to nothing. You might be what holds this family together, but my eyes are set on the whole of District Ten. Don't you dare forget that." I rise wiping dirt off my legs and butt. I glower at the man. I hate how much we look alike. We share a tall lanky figure with lean arms and tawny legs. The same dirty blonde hair the entire family share, but only I got his blue eyes. Everyone else got mom's green eyes.

"This district is made of families. Without people like me there is no District Ten." I say defiantly staring him down.

"Because it's reaping day you can keep all this. I expect breakfast soon." He storms out of the house and slams the door on the way out. Almost immediately after he leaves Zia and the boys come out of the sleeping room. I put on my best smile and start on breakfast.

We eat in peace. I make Paul clean up and Frankie scrub the dishes in fresh water. It wasn't anything amazing, just some bread from our next door neighbor I gave the bass and some apricot preserves I got from my best friend. His name is Dustin Price and he helps me out any chance he gets. That's just how our families survive. Granted, he's the only child of a middle class shop owner, but just like me his father is also missing a hand. We work at the same ranch, and he's the only reason that I truly laugh.

Dustin is my best friend, my partner in crime, and my closest confidant. He's 17 like myself but he has a strong jaw line with a beard that could get him into any bar without getting carded. Where I'm lean he's bulky. Huge arms and legs that make him a prime farm hand. He's down right perfect in every way. Quick witted and sarcastic, but unyielding in how passionate he is about life. He's the only reason that this dull brown and gray district has any color to me. He's simply wonderful.

"Zia I need you to get ready for the reaping. I got you something special." She comes over to me and I pull out a tasteful bluebell dress I hide in my sheets.

"Declan we can't afford this." She says grabbing the garment from my hand laying it over her body.

"Well I guess I didn't buy it." I say smirking. "I pulled a few favors down at the ranch and Samantha gave it to me as a thank you." Her eyes alight at the prospect of genuinely owning a nice new dress. "Go try it on." She nods vigorous and scampers into the other room.

Samantha is my other best friend. The only daughter of a wealthy ranch herder, or at least wealthy by District Ten standards. She's beautiful, charming, and hard working. The ideal District Ten woman. She believes in working us to the bone while we're at the ranch but she's right there in the ditch with us. She can rope a steer better than anyone I know, and when she gets on horseback she can direct a herd in circles all by herself. Sam always calls me and Dustin 'fire and ice', apparently he's red hot but I'm icy cold. It's a nickname we've come to love. It's our personal little moniker in our tiny slice of life.

She doesn't have any siblings and I earned the dress by setting up a few traps around her property to get rid of a swathe a rats who decided to name one of her silos home. Personally, I think she was pitying me and my family. She knew I would be able to trade the rats and knew that I was looking for a dress. A double win for me. Although she'd never say so, she pities me, and while that bothers me I will never have too much pride to provide for my sister.

Zia steps out looking like a soft bluejay. She has her light brown hair tied back into a quick ponytail and the dress fits her almost perfectly. I can't help but smile at her.

"How do I look Declan?" She asks confidence emanating.

"You look pretty good by anyone's standard." Dustin says from the front door, standing behind my dad.

"Dustin?" I say startled but happy. "What're you doing here." He smirks at me with his typical surefire grin.

"You already forget that we agreed to walk to the reaping today? It's kind of a big deal. Capitol picks people for the Hunger Games, we always get dinner afterwards. It's kind of a tradition since we were like, you know, 12." I go up to him and give him a tight squeeze.

"Shut up." He squeezes back, a familiar hug. "I didn't forget, just didn't realize the time."

"Well my dad gave me this, so I'm quite punctual now." Dustin takes a step back and holds out an ornate seemingly gold pocket watch on a pewter fob chain. I take in his attire for the first time and realize how well dressed he is. His typically dusty jeans and plaid flannel are replaced by a freshly pressed pair of black dress pants and a crisp white button up tucked in. He looks handsome.

"It's wonderful." I say going back to the watch from his clothes. "Who did you get this from?" I ask obligingly.

"Little thing from mom, it's nice right?" I nod quickly. "Not quite as nice as the one my dad gave me, which I am now giving to you." He reaches into his pocket and pulls forth a polished pewter pocket watch on a chain as gold as sunlight.

"I can't take this." I say, my mouth agape.

"Sure you can!" Dustin says with a perk. He grabs my hand, his rough with callouses, and places the small metal disk and chain in mine. Dustin quickly pulls away his hand. "It's yours now, consider it a birthday gift. Don't you turn 18 in a few months?" I start laughing and shake my head.

"I turned 17 last month. You were at my party."

"Then this gift is late."

"Dustin I can't accept-" He cuts me off.

"So Zia and I are ready and you're not? Declan being late, yikes. Samantha would be shocked to hear about that. I guess we'll just skip the reaping and get a pint down at Smiley's." I roll my eyes and leave Dustin and the family standing around. I hurry into my nicest plaid shirt and the only pair of men's pants in the house that don't have holes in them. I step out and dad is forcing Paul and Frankie into clothes while Zia and Dustin chat amicably.

"Dad we're heading out." Zia says already half out the door practically dragging Dustin behind her. Another reason I adore Dustin is that he treats my family like it was his own. Zia and the boys trust him, which is worth more than anything in this day and age. If you can't trust the people around you then you're not really living a life. You're just getting by.

"Declan." Dad says waving me over. "Meet us after the reaping by O'Malley's place. City Center is always so hellish and busy after the reaping I don't want the boys mixed up in that bullshit." I nod, understanding.

"See you then."

The walk to the reaping is exceptionally pleasant. Dustin and I banter, Zia laughs, and the sun is out. It would be a great memory if we weren't walking to a human stockyard. Peacekeepers surround City Center in their shiny white uniforms. Guns and batons in hand they force us all into lines. Zia looks sweaty and nervous as the peacekeepers draw blood from her finger. I know it doesn't hurt, but do we really have to get pricked every year?

Dustin says it's the Capitols way of making sure that every single one of us in the districts gives blood, that it's their way of taking a pound of flesh from everyone.

She winces and they dab her finger on the ledger. A peacekeeper with his black visor down shoves her to the side grabs me and pulls me forward.

"Name?"

"Declan Peletier, 17." I hold my finger out, take the prick and smear the blood across the page walking away quickly afterwards. Dustin is soon on my heels. A few steps past the register I take Zia by the shoulders.

"Stay by the back of your pen and find me and Dustin right afterwards ok? Dad told us to meet him at O'Malley's. Understood?" She nods at me swallowing a nervous lump. "Don't worry Zia. I would never let them take you." I wrap her in my arms again. "Don't worry." I mutter into her hair.

We leave her and go to our area. Dustin chats to a few people around us, always the social butterfly. I twiddle my thumbs and watch as a man wrapped in bubbles wearing a pair of bullhorns steps up to the microphone, our escort and the only Capitolite who would ever step foot in District Ten by choice.

"Attention please!" He trills with a high pitched whine. Though the crowd silences as he continues. "My name is Wulfric Snowden and it is a pleasure to be here with all of you." I bite the inside of my cheek nervously. After doing this for so many years you get used to it and simply want it to be over. I'm tired of watching people walk to their slaughter. I'm tired of watching families collapse and cry and mourn. Nothing about this is a game.

Last year a girl named Jessica was reaped and she was so fierce and fought to her bitter end. For days her mother sat in City Center crying or being so still you would think she died. People gave her food they could spare but she wouldn't eat. I held her 2 weeks later, her cheeks hollowed and eyes sunken, and forced bread into her mouth. I never bothered to learn her name, but she was broken and my instincts took over. How can a world be so cruel to where that's the interaction two strangers share?

I avert my eyes as Snowden repeats the Treaty of Treason and plays a little holoclip about the Dark Days. I personally don't care much for history but I wonder about the time before the Dark Days. Was it always like this? What vile type of people sat around a table and came up with this? How bad must the war have been to justify such pain? I guess it doesn't matter. Certainly I'll never know.

"Let us begin with the women." Snowden says high pitched and gleeful. He prances over to a great crystalline bowl with thousands of slips. He rifles around until he finds one that suffices him. He peels apart the slip and speaks clearly. "Lyanna Connington." A girl steps out of the 16 year old section with brown hair so dark that if the sun wasn't catching it just right you'd confuse it with black tucked into a braid. She's thin, but not without muscles. Maybe a part time farm hand? Her tidy yet pedestrian clothing tells me that she too knows what it's like to be without.

"Congrats!" Snowden screeches as Lyanna reaches the stage. "How are you feeling?" She rolls her eyes and puts on a brave face before replying.

"I'm just so thrilled and lucky to be here." The satire drips from each word and yet Snowden claps like a moron.

"We're thrilled to have you! Let us find you a partner!" He claps and goes over to the men's bowl. I ignore him and look at Lyanna, to her credit if she's feeling scared or overwhelmed it doesn't show on her face. She's not looking confident by any means, but still silent and strong counts for something in my book. "For the men we have Declan Pelter."

"It's Peletier!" I reply instinctually scoffing that yet another person messed up my name.

Wait. My name. Oh my God. I was reaped? No. What the hell.

"Declan stay here I got this." Dustin starts to edge around me holding me by the waist and pushing me behind him. I grab his wrist.

"Don't you fucking dare." Dustin holds my eye contact shocked at my swear, something I don't do often.

"Declan you can't." He says with pain in his voice and tears forming in his eyes. "Let me. I'm the fire and you're the ice right?"

"I don't need you to burn out for me." I push him aside and muster a stern face and advance towards the stage. A path of people opens up before me. My hands sweat and I can feel my heartbeat pound through my ears. Everything seems to close in around me even as people step farther away.

 _Step. Step. Step. Just get to stage._

Feelings of sadness and confusion flood over me with undertones of anger and fear.

 _How dare they. What gives them the right? No. No. No. Dammit. What about Zia?_

I finally get up on stage and look out across the crowd. Blank faces. People relaxing that they aren't being sent to death. A few faces with tears. Mainly Dustin who has gone from watery to full blown crying, two different peacekeepers hold him back. I scan looking for Zia but she's short and hidden in the crowd.

"How did you say your name?" Snowden says shoving a microphone in my face.

"Declan Peletier."

"That's simply magnanimous! Well, shake hands you two." We do. Lyanna holds my gaze and gives me a firm and sturdy handshake.

"I give you your tributes! Lyanna Connington and Declan Peletier!"

* * *

It didn't take long for me and Lyanna to get separated and shoved into different rooms. Peacekeepers need to be promptly renamed because nothing about how they deal with people is peaceful. Within in a minute Zia bursts into the room with Paul and Frankie hot on her heels.

The three envelope me in a suffocating hug. I wrap my arms around the mass of my siblings and feel their sobs against me. I'm not one to cry, never have been. But this is heartbreaking. I feel tears forming and choke down the urge.

"You can't leave us." Paul says crying. Frankie echoes his sentiments and I hug each in one arm close against my chest.

"It's gonna be ok. I'm going to come back."

"Always the optimist you were." Dad says with a resigned tinge in his voice. I stand up from hugging the boys and embrace Zia, ignoring his slight.

"Declan, you have to come back. We need you." She buries her face in my chest and I rub her back with one hand and hold her head against me with the other. My sweet innocent loving sister.

"I'll come back." I say trying to convince myself.

"You have to. I can't do this without you." I release her from the hug and grab her shoulders abruptly.

"Listen to me. You're not allowed to think like that anymore. If I don't come back that makes you the bread winner." I think back to this morning reminding her about a knot I've taught her a dozen times.

"I'm not ready Declan." She says tears streaming down her face.

"Stop. I've taught you almost everything I know. My billhook is with my bed sheets and all my snaring ropes are at Dustin's house. You know what to do, I promise you. You can do this."

"Declan." I cut her off and go into quick lists of what farmers are less strict about trapping on their lands. Where you have to use stealth and where you should just avoid. Names of knots she'll never remember, but can hopefully tie. Refresh her memory of the differences between duck, geese, chickens, goslings, and even the occasional swan.

"They're not pretty waterfowl anymore Zia. They're prey that can feed you, the boys, and dad. Understood?" She nods at me but I know half of what I said went over her head. Hopefully she remembers enough.

"Son." Dad finally steps up to me. "Do your best and stick it to the Capitol every chance you get." A peacekeeper slams through the door.

"Time!" He grabs a screaming Paul and a sobbing Frankie and hauls them through the door. Another grabs Zia by the waist and picks her up, kicking and screaming she goes.

"I'll have you know you've always made me proud. Providing for me and the kids like you do. Your mother would be really proud of the young man you've become." A peacekeeper grabs him by the wrist, but I quickly hug my dad.

"Thank you." In a flash his words and the faces of my family are nothing but a memory now.

Not even 5 seconds later Dustin comes busting in the door. He quite literally runs in and tackles me to the floor in a tighter embrace than I've ever known.

"You son of a bitch." He's already crying. I pry him off of me and we stand up. He hugs me again. "You stupid son of a bitch. Why wouldn't you let me die for you?" I can feel his tears wet the side of my face. His sobs don't stop the whole conversation

"How could I live with the blood of my best friend on my hands? I've taken so much from you and you've given me so much the least I can give you is the promise of a future." I say each word measured and calmly. He's the fire. I have to be ice.

"I'd happily die for you and those kids time and time again. All I wanted for my life was for it to mean something." He says, body still shaking and sobbing against me.

"Your life still can mean something. Zia is only 13 and will need all the help she can get. You're not the one walking into a 24 way fight to the death." He manages a light chuckle at that. Anything at all Dustin will find a way to laugh.

"Got a good point there." He wipes the tears from his red puffy eyes. "God I'm going to miss you."

"Not for too long hopefully. I'll be back soon." I say nodding solemnly.

"I know you'll come back, just do it alive and not laying in some box or with all your pieces in a bag."

"We're going to miss you." Samantha says standing by the door. "I came in with him, just not as loud." She smiles slyly. Dustin releases me for a split second and I give her a gentle hug.

"Thanks for coming Sam."

"We'll miss you around the farm, but even if this one can't keep himself together to keep your family in tact, I'll be there." She elbows Dustin. "I know about the trapping, and I'll keep those snares up if I have to grow an extra arm."

"Thank you." My heart beats a little easier, between the two of them they can provide for my family. Or at least my siblings. Neither is super fond of Derek, but they love my siblings. "You guys are better than I deserve."

"Impossible. You're the most amazing man I've ever met." Dustin replies. Another peacekeeper bursts through the door.

"Time." Samantha makes for the door with a frown on her face. She salutes me and exits with her head held low.

"Declan you can win this. You're smart, you know how to trap, you're sneaky, and I need you to come back. I really need you to come back."

"I promise I'll do my best."

"Your best will get your ass back here."

"I promise." The peacekeeper grabs his arms. He elbows him in the neck and he lets go clutching his throat.

"You have to get back here Declan." His body wracks as he cries. "Keep my watch as your token. Remember me. Please don't go." Another three peacekeepers grab him and he starts writhing back and forth trying to throw punches and kicks but simply being overwhelmed. I pull the watch from my pocket to prove I still have it.

"I could never forget you." I say tears pricking at my eyes. "You're my best friend and I love you." I've said the words to him before but something about them seems more real this time.

"Come back to me Declan I love you too-" If he was going to say anything else he is cut off by the slamming door.

My respite in the heated blue velvet chair lasts only a moment before another set of peacekeepers comes in and ushers me out the door. I'm blitzed with lights brighter than the sun and far more numerous. I force a smile and wave into the void and place one foot in front of the other until I ascend a metal slant and end up in a train cart.

A group of strange people surround me and the door shuts behind me.

"You ready kid?" A husky man with a beard asks with no joy in his voice.

"Let's get this started."

"Yes. Let the games begin."

* * *

 **As some of you may have noticed if you went to my page I've got a few stories running right now. 2016 was rough on me and I will continue Wade in the Water and Victory is Relative as soon as I get around to it. Though, for the time being this story is my focus. Sorry to those who followed either of those tales.**

 **So please, don't hesitate to give me some feedback. I know my grammar needs work but I hope you like what I produced. I'll see you in a few weeks with the next chapter. And, Happy New Year!**


	2. Meet your Competition

**First off I want to say that this story is entirely unlinked to any Hunger Games characters, we won't be seeing any familiar faces, I really wanted to challenge myself to create my own vision of the world within the scope of the Hunger Games novels. Also, starting this chapter there will be more mature and adult themes throughout the fic, such as human trafficking among other things so be prepared for that.**

 **Thanks for joining me again for this installment, enjoy!**

* * *

"My name is Apollo Castillo. I'm your mentor Declan. Lyanna, you'll have Adrianna Falahee." I give them a once over. Apollo is a thick man in his mid 30's with a beard that could sand a piece of wood given enough time. Arms as thick as tree trunks and piercing golden eyes. He's not someone I would want to see in a bar fight and would like to see even less in the Hunger Games. He looks like a victor. His rough spun voice makes it sound like he's a victor.

Adrianna is a far less appealing. She looks like she already has one foot in the grave. She's got to be in her late 50's maybe early 60's. People from District Ten don't live much longer than that. Her face is sinewy and as opposed to Apollo who is built she is frail. I'd compare her to a starving child, but I think she's just old, not hungry. Brittle grey hair and pale matching eyes only age her further. I can't say anything to their personalities, but I'm glad I got Apollo.

"Great. Now what?" Lyanna says with an edge of impatience.

"We'd like to speak to you in separate carts and then we'll go from their. You'll find everything here to be quite methodical and austere." Adrianna replies curty.

Austere? I can do austere. I can do structure and organization. Give me a set of instructions to follow and I'll make sure to cross everything off the list twice. Samantha would always say that if you gave me a check list and a time limit I'd be done not a second too soon or second late. I could use a little bit of that when everything in my life was just ripped from my hands. Images of Paul and Frankie flash in my mind but I push them aside and focus on the task at hand.

"Let's get to it." I say nodding. Apollo takes me to the next car over and rings a little bell. A woman dressed in crisp red with golden flats walks into the room carrying a platter that holds only a glass decanter the size of my head filled with what I can only assume is whisky.

"Ok kid. Tell me what you got."

"I'm sorry?"

"You know, what you got! What skills? What are you working with that I can work with to bring your sorry ass back to shits-ville District Ten?" He grabs the decanter with one hand opens it with his teeth and drinks deep. "You can go now." The woman with her hair pulled back into a tight glossy bun leaves the room with a bow. He notices me staring.

"You've never seen an avox have you?"

"Can't say that I've ever had a servant before." I say harshly, disgusted that anyone from District Ten would stoop so low as to use another person to do their business for them.

"Kid, don't think of them as a servant. Think of them more like a slave. Get back in here you bitch!" He shouts. Within a second the avox comes back in the room and bows. "I require some cola to chase this and a big pile of those doughnut things. Ones with sprinkles." She bows to him and I speak out.

"You're going to let him speak to you like that?" She ignores me and leaves the room curtly.

"She's not going to be doing much speaking at all! She's currently missing her tongue, courtesy of the Capitol." He leans in close to me. "I'll let you in on a little secret, that doesn't stop them from giving some amazing head. Once you pin them down and force them to take it. They can't scream or nothing. It just happens." Bile rises in my throat and I push Apollo away from me. He doesn't go anywhere because of my push but he does take a step back.

"You fucking pig." I say disgusted with him. All the feelings of joy I had not 5 minutes ago are replaced by sheer repulsion and disgust for this man. He's not _my_ victor. He doesn't represent District Ten. He's a coward who let the Capitol destroy him.

"This pig is your boss. So you'd better warm up to the idea of me. Because if we both do our fucking jobs right you'll be my new coworker." The thought of spending the rest of my days with Apollo makes my stomach churn. But when the alternative is death, it still seems pretty decent. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves there Declan. Tell me what you got." I breathe deeply and exhale steadily, trying to keep myself measured against this abhorrent person.

"Back in District Ten I was a trapper. Would set snares to get whatever game I could. Mostly fowl and small mammals like foxes." He interrupts me.

"Boring. What else." I wrack my brain for what important things I know.

"I use a billhook a lot, I'm pretty familiar with one in my hand. I know a lot about survival, when I'm out checking my snares I'm usually pretty stealthy and quiet I guess. Is that what you mean?"

"What the fuck is a billhook." He asks.

"It's a knife that you can cut down branches-"

"A knife? So you're comfortable with a knife? That's good. Not great. Would rather it be a spear or something, but we can work with that. What else you got for me?" I throw my arms out wide beginning to get frustrated with him.

"What are you expecting me to say Apollo? That I can fly, shoot lasers from my eyes, and can fix all the world's problems by sheer power of will? Or are you just asking my repeatedly to wear down my options and make me feel like I need you? Either way you're being a major prick. I'm not from District One or Two, I'm from District Ten, just like you were at one point. I live a real life, not one of luxury where drinking or playing murder sports are my hobbies. So whatever you're looking for from me I don't have." My words are chosen carefully and I speak with a steady tone. Yes, I'm frustrated, but I'm not losing my act over him. I can't. Not yet. Not when everything is fresh on the line.

"Well I'll be damned. I got another talker. Look at you Mr. Politician-in-Training. Should've started with 'Hi I'm Declan, I love the sound of my own voice'. Would have been more accurate." He takes another long swig of whisky and the avox comes back with a box of multicolored pastries and a large pitcher of what I can only assume is cola. "And then my doughnuts appeared." He sets down the beautiful glass decanter and grabs a doughnut before stuffing his face.

"Is there a point to this conversation?" I ask eager to move onto the next step of this awful process.

"Not anymore. I can already tell what kind of a man you are and the answer is you're not at all." Apollo walks back into the original car and I follow him a sleet coursing through my veins.

"I'm sorry can you please explain what that means to me." I say abruptly following him.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. You've got an issue with who I am?"

"Declan you're barking up the wrong tree with him." Adrianna says with a soothing even keel voice.

"No, what I want to say needs saying."

"Here we go, come on kid lay it on me."

"Just because I don't drink as a hobby and I don't spend all my time forcing myself on helpless women doesn't mean I'm less of a man than you. I don't know when you decided that it was ok to pigeon hole an entire gender into a tiny little box like that, but I'm extremely not ok with it." I go to continue but Adrianna cuts me off before I keep going.

"Declan, sweetie. As a woman I appreciate your rhetoric, but save it for someone literate. You'll find Apollo isn't the best at listening."

"Could have told you that myself." I scoff.

"I'm ok with it." Lyanna speaks to Adrianna.

"You're ok with him being a sexist piece of garbage?" I say confused staring directly into Lyanna's green gold flecked eyes.

"No, you moron. I'm ok with Adrianna doubling as both our mentors. You're obviously not that bad a guy." Lyanna says with a charmed smile. My ears perk up and I can't help but grin a little bit.

"Are you serious Adrianna?"

"As serious as one can be." She walks over to Apollo and takes a sip from his cola and pats him on the shoulder. "I got these two for the day. Go have a drink for me will you." She laughs and smiles and Apollo follows her lead before tripping into the next cart over.

"That was certainly entertaining." Lyanna says plopping down on a chair letting her hair out of it's braid. "So did we actually have anything real to do?" I take note that Lyanna is quick to speak, and quick to ask questions. She's not going to mess around.

"There is actually. Take a seat Declan, grab a notepad if you'd like we need to watch the reapings of every other district before you guys get some rest. Also, eat. I'm calling in a platter of carbs and fruits. Once I get your measurements I'll tailor them to you specifically but for now eat until you feel like you're going to throw up then drink some water. Understood?" We both silently nod. "Wonderful."

* * *

True to her word, Adrianna gets both me and Lyanna a notepad for each of us with a pencil and an amazing platter of assorted foods. Citrus fruits colored like a warm spring sunset. Hearty apples the size of my fist. Some fruits I can't name and couldn't dream up in my wildest flights of fantasy. One I peel the brown fuzzy skin off of to find a seedy interior the color of grassy fields. Apparently called a kiwi. Lyanna takes her choice of the grain products and eats probably two or three bagels smothered in blueberry flavored butter.

"So what exactly should we be looking for?" Lyanna asks wiping her face.

"Well that depends how you want to play your game. I've told tributes in the past to look for people who are strong or trustworthy. But think in your mind now what you want from a tribute and find it. If you want an ally who can run you look for that. If you want an enemy who is too cocky you find that."

I think to what I want. Do I want to see a swathe of 12 year olds that would be easy to pick off one at a time? Am I that type of person, who would relish easy to kill enemies?

 _Can I even kill someone?_

I shove the question to the recesses of my mind and think about what I truly want. I want a hug from Dustin to make it all better. I want to hear Samantha banter about working us from dawn until dusk being frustrated she's going to break her own back before she could break ours. I want to sleep on my tiny portion of the floor and wake up cold only to put on my flimsy jacket and warm myself off the adrenaline of sneaking to one of my trap lines.

I want home. I want District Ten. But that's out of the question.

From the Hunger Games I guess I want to find someone I could work with. Find someone who can watch my back when I sleep. Someone who won't poison my water when I go to the bathroom. Simply, someone to trust.

"Also, before we get too far into this I want to be very clear. If you decide to ally with one another isn't my choice. I will train you together so long as it's working and I will do my best to get both of you alive. But we all know that isn't possible. Declan, I'm sorry but Lyanna is my tribute."

"I understand." I sigh and think that I'm already a leg down. I've always been an underdog. Dustin would always say that _'you gotta hustle if you want the bushes to rustle'_. I have to do that now, hustle.

"Good. Now let's watch." She grabs a remote, clicks a few buttons, the lights dim on the ceiling and an entire wall alights into a television screen.

The insignia of the Capitol dominates the screen for a moment. A stone eagle with wings spread abreast, clutched in it's talons 8 arrows all point out, the entirety surrounded by an ivy laurel. My blood pulses for a few moment and I breathe to relax. More likely than not I'm about to meet my killer, or worse people I'm going to have to kill. The eagle is replaced by District One written in perfect cursive script with the appropriate luxurious castle symbol.

A man with sleek short black hair and a neck thick and muscular volunteers loudly naming himself Obsidian. His district partner a lean and dangerous looking redhead with eyes mismatching purple and brown. If it's a surgical implant it looks astonishingly real, if it's a birth defect it makes her look beautiful and murderous. When I write her name, Olympia, down on my paper I add the word 'avoid' scrawled next to it.

District Two is a similar situation. Edrick, a sexy blonde who must be at least 6' 4'' and weighs 250 lbs of pure muscle towers over Tarragon, equally blonde but less a brick wall like Edrick and more like a falcon. Big topaz doe eyes and long limbs make her look swift and evasive. They both volunteer with gusto to applause and jeering.

In comparison to their predecessors District Three looks pityingly sad. Brunettes from the 16 and 14 year old sections are reaped, Lysander and Melissa. Neither look strong but the boy manages to hold his tears to himself.

District Four goes back to volunteers. First a woman named Selena clad in a dress that shows off her sex appeal with trident shaped earrings and a matching trident tattoo going from the back of her knee all the way down to her foot. Her partner volunteers quietly and names himself Otsego. He's the smallest of the volunteer boys and maybe the shortest overall. He's got shifty emerald eyes that make me think he'll stab anyone in the back the first chance he gets. I write next to his name 'betrayer?'.

More get reaped in District Five and Six. None of them stand out to me but Angel the girl from 5. Her skin is so sunken in that I can count her ribs from here. Part of me, maybe merciful maybe cruel, is glad she was reaped. If nothing else this will end her suffering. Sure, I'm familiar with hunger. But how can what she lives be called a life? That's not hunger that's living starvation.

The pair from Seven both show lots of promise though. First the girl is reaped, Colette. A girl with a tasteful tangle of dirty blonde hair steps out of the 17 year old section. She's not fat, but is certainly big boned, not struggling for food it would seem. Broad in the chest but comely face, her plain attire tells me that despite her upbringing she's not gaudy or too prideful, but she's clean and well kept.

Her district partner volunteers for an 18 year old with big arms and a scar across his face. A boy with a winning smile steps out of the 17 year old pen with his hand raised high, beaming like he won the lottery. Brown hair and eyes, with a scruffy beard with red hair interwoven he's handsome, not drop dead handsome, but nonetheless cute. Average build but with a healthy canter in his step. Next to Garlan I write 'volunteered why?', both curious and intrigued.

When they shake hands Colette is even keel, a rock. I admire that. Too often people are shamed when they get reaped and cry on stage. He is the opposite, flamboyant in his movements and waving. Garlan even manages a few cheers from the crowd.

District Eight gives us Rory and Gracelynn. He's 14 going on 10 and she's 18 going on 22. Gracelynn looks intelligent and mature, though I can't specifically say why. In our sister district, District Nine, Renly and Ellen are reaped. She looks gaunt and haggard but he looks well fed and friendly. For some reason it doesn't look like either is well suited for the games.

Then comes us.

There's something so surreal, so unbelievable about watching events you participated in unfold. I remember the reaping in slow motion. Each breath and heartbeat took a year after I heard my name. Yet in real time Lyanna gets reaped looking more nervous and brave than I recall. Once my name is announced I react like everyone else does. I interact with Dustin and force him to stay put then walk up to the stage shell shocked.

It all seemed so different living through it, not a simple call and answer. You can plainly see the shock on our faces but you can't as readily see the death of our aspirations. You can't look into our minds and see every future we had planned fall apart, those wonderful visions of campfires and long days on the ranch replaced with knives gnashing and clawing at our bodies.

At the end of the day though, we both look respectable, if not unremarkable.

District Eleven manages to break my heart as two 12 year olds are reaped. They both break down on stage crying. One begging for Nani the other for Cameron. Next to Alaric and Trina's names I just put '12'. I pray I never have to see them this entire experience.

Everything gets wrapped up when two kids, Galbert and Bethany, get pulled from the 14 and 17 year old areas both covered in coal looking like they're a meal away from passing out.

As quickly as it started the stone eagle reappears before the entire wall shuts off and the lights illuminate. I shield my eyes from the sterile glow and try to run through names and faces again, but ultimately failing.

"So what did you see." Adrianna asks with pursed lips. Her note pad has scribbles next to every name, even the ones I didn't manage to catch.

"Well, it looks like all the typical volunteers are there, which means we can at least expect that alliance to be 6 ways. Not ideal." Lyanna chews her bottom lip. "The boys look strong though, especially Edrick and Obsidian. I'd wager they'd be favored to win by these reapings."

"I would agree with that." I chime in, wanting to get everything I can from each moment of Adrianna's time. "Except I would also add Selena and Garlan. There's something about Selena that tells me she's got no issues with killing and Garlan currently has mystery on his side. I can't be the only one who wants to know what would cause a District Seven to volunteer."

"That's good, both of you that's good." Adrianna stands up and paces around the room for a moment. "So Lyanna you were looking for enemies? For threats?"

"I want to know who to avoid on both ends of the spectrum. I want to know which one of these people will be the first to pick up a sword and which will be their first target. If I can figure out those two groups and avoid them as long as possible my odds go up. Drastically." She explains thoughtfully. "I also noticed that both from 11 will be easy pickings, as will Angel and Rory. Both look a day away from the grave as is. I doubt any number of bagels can fix that." I stare at my district partner curiously. She's smart. Already thinking strategy and tactics. She hasn't resigned herself to the grave quite yet. I need that.

"Can we address the oxen in the room?" I ask swallowing my fear. Both girls look at me expectantly. "Lyanna are we just training together or we allying together? I understand that Adrianna is yours, but we could be good for each other. You're obviously not stupid and I know I bring skills to the table." The two exchange glances until Lyanna sighs.

"I haven't made up my mind yet. I'm assuming that was an offer, and if so I'm hoping it doesn't have an expiration date." She stands up. "Your reaping made you look strong. Like a good person to take out right at the beginning. They won't just go after the easy pickings. They'll take out the competition at the start, where you'll be easy to find. I don't want to be attached to that." She scratches the back of her head, anxious.

"Oh." Is the only word I manage, understanding her message.

Me? A threat?

I go back to the first time I actually snared a raccoon in one of my traps. I was 10. Mom just had Paul and passed away. The entire idea of snaring was Dustin's idea and he showed me a few knots and gave me some quality rope to get me started. It took a few weeks of messing up but eventually I got my first.

The thin metal wire was wrapped around the raccoon's neck and front paw, a clean catch as any. When I arrived he was still wiggling, fighting, for freedom. A plump little thing who was just minding his own business on the outskirts of the field. I sat there for 20 minutes with my billhook in hand staring at the poor thing. Ashamed of myself for not being able to kill the creature and put it out of it's misery I started to run home. Half way I realized I still left it there straining to break free. When I came back the coon managed to squirm and writhe away so hard that he tightened the knot to where he suffocated himself. With a quivering bottom lip I removed the wire and grabbed the dead rodent.

How did the boy who couldn't kill a raccoon end up becoming the boy you had to debate his threat level?

"Was this an open ended offer?" Lyanna asks kindly. I clear my throat before answering too quickly in response.

"Yeah of course. I'd like you as an ally. If it takes you to the arena to decide you want me I won't fault you for that." I scratch the back of my neck malcontent with her answer. A simple yes or no would have sufficed, and yet I get neither.

"I want to win, same as you. Which means I have to take time to think of every choice I make while I still have the security to do so. If that makes sense?" I lean back into the ornate throne sized chair. She brings up a good point. She might like me, might instinctively want to ally with me, but these are choices of life and death now. She's already doing her job and thinking ahead. I need to be more measured and careful. Every alliance I make could mean my life. I stare at the ground carefully picking my next words.

"We could help each other win. I'll prove that to you."

"Here's to hoping." She grabs a glass and sips. Knowing a dismissal when I hear one I rise from the chair and exit the train cart without another word. I edge past Apollo and when Wulfric Snowden tries to speak to me I pop one of the plastic bubbles that make up his outfit. He gasps and scampers off muttering about how ungrateful I am.

A few train carts down I find a door with my name already scrawled onto it. Within I find a large plush bed roughly the size of the entire sleeping room back in District Ten. I grin and throw myself on the giant mattress. For the first time since my name was called I enjoy silence. I spread out on the bed and stretch in all directions trying to find an edge but fail.

Hours later when Snowden knocks on my door lilting about dinner I ignore him and ask for it delivered to my door enjoying the quiet reprieve of my room. Sure enough, 15 minutes later a male avox in the same golden flats as his female counterpart walks in pushing a cart of still steaming plates. He bows low and exits the room in a hurry. I make a mental note to never ask for anything again from these people. My requests will only be met with a slave doing my bidding through their will. I refuse to be that person.

I eat the mashed potatoes and pour warm thick gravy over my entire plate and eat as much as possible. Bitter greens that sting the tongue and meat so tender that it dissolves in my mouth. Grainy rolls so dense that even the butter smears can't make them easier to chew. An entire pitcher of tangy bright orange juice to wash it all down and a wet napkin with which to wash my face. Entirely too extravagant.

Each bite makes me thinks of Frankie or Paul or anyone back home who wouldn't even dream of a meal this complete. A feast back home was when I could keep enough chickens and barter enough to make a pot of chicken noodle stew. Nothing compared to this spread, but I long for the warm broth, carrots, and celery that meant the family was surviving another day. I push the cart away, too full to move, and fall back on the sheets.

I can't sleep though. Another memory comes to mind so keen and distinct I can't help but shudder.

It took me another two weeks before I caught another, this time a fox by it's hind leg. When I found her I jammed my billhook right into it's chest. Of course, I didn't realize that was one of the messiest and most painful ways to kill an animal. It shrieked and convulsed for what seemed like hour. I also didn't realize that you can't barter a pelt with a giant hole in it. Another failure, but for brutality not cowardice.

By my third successful trap I mustered the courage to grab it by head and slash its throat clean and quick.

I wonder which of my three kills Lyanna is picking up. And which one of the three will happen to me when I enter the arena.

* * *

 **So we've begun to meet other tributes! I'm exciting to get these two to the Capital and see what awaits them there. I'll be back in 2 weeks with the next chapter! As always, if you like it or even if you hate it let me know why in the reviews. Thanks!**


End file.
